Thirty Years a Slave - Louis Hughes
* * * * *
GOING BACK FOR OUR WIVES.
After carefully considering the matter, we concluded to go back to
Senatobia and see the captain of the Union troops there. The next day,
Friday, we hired a two horse wagon, and made preparations to start on
our perilous undertaking Saturday morning. It was our hope to find some
one at Senatobia to go with us to Panola, and protect us in the effort
to bring away our wives. So, early in the morning, we set out. Our
first stop was at Big Springs camping ground, where we made preparations
for refreshing ourselves and spending the night. Just as we had finished
building a fire, for cooking and keeping off the mosquitoes, two
soldiers came riding up to the spring. "Hello," said one, "which way are
you traveling?" "We are just from Memphis," said George. "Have you any
whisky?" asked one of them. We replied "yes." "Will you give a fellow a
horn?" We answered the question by handing them the bottle. While they
were drinking, George and I stepped aside, and, after a few moments
talk, we decided to put the question to them of going with us to get our
wives. I asked: "Where are you from?" "Senatobia," replied one. We at
once laid our cause before them, telling them what Col. Walker had said
regarding our getting some one to go with us on our enterprise. They
listened attentively, and when we had finished, one of them asked: "How
much whisky have you?" George answered: "Two bottles." "What do you
intend to do when you see the captain at Senatobia?" "Lay our complaint
before him," said I. "Now my friend," said one of the soldiers, "I am
afraid if you go to the captain you will be defeated. But I'll tell you
what I'll do. Give my comrade and me one of your bottles of whisky, and
we will put you on a straight track. The reason why I say this is that
our captain has been sweetened by the rebel farmers. He is invited out
to tea by them every evening. I know he will put you off. But I will
write a note to some comrades of mine who, I know, will bring you out
safe." We agreed at once to this proposition, and gave them the whisky.
He wrote the note, and gave it to us, telling us to go to the last tent
on the line in the camp, where we would find two boys to whom we should
give it. "They are brave," said he, "and the only two I know of that can
help you. If they are not there don't give the note to any one else, but
wait till they come back, on Tuesday night. I feel satisfied that they
will go and help you out." With these words, they rode off. George and I
felt good over our prospects.
* * * * *
A HAZARDOUS TRIP.
The next morning was Sunday, and we started on, reaching Senatobia about
eleven o'clock. We went into the camp, following the directions given
us, to go to the last tent in the line; but, when we reached there, the
soldiers were out. We lingered around the grounds a short time, then
went back, and found them there. We gave them the note; and, after
reading it, they simply asked us where we had stopped our wagon. I told
them outside the village. "Go there," said one of them, "and remain
until we come out to see you." Shortly they came out; and, after we had
told them what we wanted, the distance to McGee's, which was about
nineteen miles from Senatobia, and had given them such other information
as they desired, they concluded that they would go. "We want to be
back," said I, "before daylight Monday morning, because we must not be
seen on the road; for we are well known in that section, and, if
discovered, would be captured and killed." "Well," said one of the
soldiers, "we will have to go back to camp, and arrange to be excused
from roll call this evening, before we can make the trip." They went
back to camp; and, in about ten minutes they came out again saying: "All
is right; we will go." We gave them each ten dollars; and promised, if
they brought us out safely, to give each ten dollars more. It was now
about half-past eleven o'clock. They had to go to camp, and slip their
horses out cautiously, so as not to be seen by the captain. In half an
hour we were on our way; and, after we had ridden some two miles, we
were overtaken by the two soldiers. It was Sunday afternoon; and our
having a wagon attracted much attention from the farmers as we passed
along. They looked at us so sharply that George and I felt decidedly
uneasy; yet we kept up courage and pressed steadily on. After a long and
weary ride we reached old Master Jack's a little after sundown. The
soldiers rode into the yard ahead of us, and the first person they met
was a servant (Frank) at the woodpile. They said to him: "Go in and tell
your master, Mr. McGee, to come out, we want to see him," at the same
time asking for Louis' and George's wives. Young William McGee came out
and the soldiers said to him: "We want feed for seventy-five head of
horses." McGee said: "We have not got it." Just then George and I were
coming up. We drove in at the gate, through the grove, and passed the
woodpile where McGee and the soldiers were talking. McGee had just
replied: "We have not got that much feed to spare--we are almost out."
"Well," said the soldiers, "we must have it," and they followed on right
after the wagons. As we drove past them, young McGee went running into
the house, saying to his mother: "It is Louis and George, and I'll kill
one of them to-night." This raised quite an alarm, and the members of
the family told him not to do that, as it would ruin them. As soon as
George and I drove up to the first cabin, which was my wife's and
Kitty's, we ran in. Kitty met us at the door and said: "I am all ready."
She was looking for us. We commenced loading our wagon with our few
things. Meanwhile the soldiers had ridden around a few rods and came
upon old Master Jack and the minister of the parish, who were watching
as guards to keep the slaves from running away to the Yankees. Just
think of the outrage upon those poor creatures in forcibly retaining
them in slavery long after the proclamation making them free had gone
into effect beyond all question! As the soldiers rode up to the two men
they said: "Hello! what are you doing here? Why have you not told these
two men, Louis and George, that they are free men--that they can go and
come as they like?" By this time all the family were aroused, and great
excitement prevailed. The soldier's presence drew all the servants near.
George and I hurried to fill up our wagon, telling our wives to get in,
as there was no time to lose--we must go at once. In twenty minutes we
were all loaded. My wife, Aunt Kitty and nine other servants followed
the wagon. I waited for a few moments for Mary Ellen, sister of my wife;
and as she came running out of the white folks' house, she said to her
mistress, Mrs. Farrington: "Good-bye; I wish you good luck." "I wish you
all the bad luck," said she in a rage. But Mary did not stop to notice
her mistress further; and joining me, we were soon on the road following
the wagon.
* * * * *
TWO BRAVE MEN.
Those soldiers were brave indeed. Think of the courage and daring
involved in this scheme--only two soldiers going into a country of which
they knew nothing except that every white man living in it was their
enemy. The demand which they made for food for seventy-five horses was a
clever ruse, invented by them to alarm the McGees, and make them think
that there was a troop of horses near by, and that it would not be safe
for them to offer any resistance to our going away with our wives. Had
they thought that there were but two soldiers, it is certain that they
would have endeavored to prevent us getting away again, and one or more
of us would undoubtedly have been killed.
As already stated, nine other slaves followed our wagon, as it moved
off. They had no hats on; some were bare-footed,--they had not stopped
to get anything; but, as soon as they saw a chance to get away, they
went just as they were at the moment. Aunt Kitty was brave and
forethoughtful, for during the week we were gone she had baked and
cooked a large amount of substantial food that would keep us from
starving while on our journey.
At the first road crossing, the two soldiers thought they saw a large
troop of soldiers in the distance, and they galloped ahead of us at full
speed; but, on arriving at the spot, they found that what they had
thought soldiers were only a herd of cattle. They rode on to the next
crossing, we following as we conveniently could. Each poor slave was
busy with his thoughts and his prayers. Now and then one would hear a
moan or a word from some of the party. All were scared, even though the
soldiers were with us. We came to the next cross road, and passed that
safely. Our fear was that the McGees might get the neighborhood to join
them and pursue us, or send the home guards after us; but Providence
was seemingly smiling upon us at last, for no one followed or molested
us. We moved on all night, until we came to a creek, at four o'clock in
the morning of Monday. The banks of the creek were very steep, and as
the horses and wagon went down into the stream, the mattress on top of
the wagon, upon which my wife and her sister's children were sitting,
was thrown off into the water. Immediately the horses stopped, and
became balky. It was such a warm night that they did not want to move on
out of the water, and would not start, either, until they got ready. As
soon as the soldiers saw the mattress slide off with my wife and the
children, one of them plunged into the water with his horse, and, in a
minute, brought them all out. All had a good ducking--indeed it seemed
like a baptism by immersion. The drenched ones were wrapped in old
blankets; and, after an hour's delay, we were again on our way. The
soldiers said: "Now we must leave you; the time is coming when we must
be in camp for roll call. If you are not at our camp when roll call is
over, we will come back and see about you." We gave them each the second
ten dollars, as agreed upon, and just as they rode to the top of the
hill they left us. We had a clear sweep from this point, and we came
into Senatobia about nine o'clock in the forenoon. Our two soldier
friends, who had brought us out so safely, came out of camp to see us.
They cheered us, and seemed glad that they had rendered us service. We
stopped at the camp until we had dried our clothes and had some
breakfast; and, then, we made our way to Memphis.
* * * * *
OUT OF BONDAGE AT LAST.
My wife and her sister were shoeless, and the latter had no hat on--she
had hurried out of the house in such excitement that she thought of
nothing but getting away. Having to walk some of the way, as all could
not ride in the wagon at the same time, we were all tired, dirty and
rest-broken, and, on the whole, a pitiful crowd to look at, as we came
into the city. One venerable old man, bent with age, whose ebony face
shone with delight, came running out into the road as we appeared,
exclaiming: "Oh! here dey come, God bless 'em! Poor chil'en! they come
fannin." We used large palm leaves to fan ourselves with, as we were so
warm. Those nine souls that followed us walked the whole distance,
arriving shortly after we did. Thousands of others, in search of the
freedom of which they had so long dreamed, flocked into the city of
refuge, some having walked hundreds of miles.
It was appropriately the 4th of July when we arrived; and, aside from
the citizens of Memphis, hundreds of colored refugees thronged the
streets. Everywhere you looked you could see soldiers. Such a day I
don't believe Memphis will ever see again--when so large and so motley a
crowd will come together. Our two soldier rescuers looked us up after we
were in Memphis, and seemed truly glad that we had attained our freedom,
and that they had been instrumental in it. Only one thing we regret, and
that is that we did not learn their names; but we were in so much
trouble, and so absorbed in the business which we had in hand--so
excited by the perils of our undertaking, that we never thought to ask
them their names, or to what regiment they belonged. Then, after we got
to Memphis, though we were most grateful for the service which they had
rendered us, we were still so excited by our new condition and
surroundings that we thought of little else, and forgot that we had no
means of establishing, at a later time, the identity of those to whom
we owed so much. Freedom, that we had so long looked for, had come at
last; and we gave praise to God, blessing the day when we met those two
heroes. It is true that we should have been free, sooner or later;
still, but for their assistance, my wife and I might never have met
again. If I could not have gone back, which I could never have done
alone, until long after, such changes might have occurred as would have
separated us for years, if not forever. Thousands were separated in this
manner--men escaping to the Union lines, hoping to make a way to return
for their families; but, failing in this, and not daring to return
alone, never saw their wives or children more. Thanks to God, we were
guided to these brave soldiers, and so escaped from so cruel a fate.
* * * * *
A WORD FOR MY OLD MASTER.
In closing this account of my years of bondage, it is, perhaps, but
justice to say of my old master that he was in some respects kinder and
more humane than many other slaveholders. He fed well, and all had
enough to wear, such as it was. It is true that the material was coarse,
but it was suited to the season, and, therefore, comfortable, which
could not truthfully be said of the clothing of the slaves of other
planters. Not a few of these did not have sufficient clothes to keep
them warm in winter; nor did they have sufficient nourishing and
wholesome food. But while my master showed these virtues, similar to
those which a provident farmer would show in the care of his dumb
brutes, he lacked in that humane feeling which should have kept him from
buying and selling human beings and parting kindred--which should have
made it impossible for him to have permitted the lashing, beating and
lacerating of his slaves, much more the hiring of an irresponsible
brute, by the year, to perform this barbarous service for him. The
McGees were charitable--as they interpreted the word--were always ready
to contribute to educational and missionary funds, while denying, under
the severest penalties, all education to those most needing it, and all
true missionary effort--the spiritual enlightenment for which they were
famishing. Then our masters lacked that fervent charity, the love of
Christ in the heart, which if they had possessed they could not have
treated us as they did. They would have remembered the golden rule: "Do
unto others as ye would that men should do to you." Possessing absolute
power over the bodies and souls of their slaves, and grown rich from
their unrequited toil, they became possessed by the demon of avarice and
pride, and lost sight of the most vital of the Christly qualities.
CHAPTER V.
FREEDOM AFTER SLAVERY.
* * * * *
COMING NORTH.
As before stated, we arrived in Memphis on the Fourth of July, 1865. My
first effort as a freeman was to get something to do to sustain myself
and wife and a babe of a few months, that was born at the salt works. I
succeeded in getting a room for us, and went to work the second day
driving a public carriage. I made enough to keep us and pay our room
rent. By our economy we managed to get on very well. I worked on, hoping
to go further north, feeling somehow that it would be better for us
there; when, one day I ran across a man who knew my wife's mother. He
said to me: "Why, your wife's mother went back up the river to
Cincinnati. I knew her well and the people to whom she belonged." This
information made us eager to take steps to find her. My wife was
naturally anxious to follow the clue thus obtained, in hopes of finding
her mother, whom she had not seen since the separation at Memphis years
before. We, therefore, concluded to go as far as Cincinnati, at any
rate, and endeavor to get some further information of mother. My wife
seemed to gather new strength in learning this news of her mother,
meager though it was. After a stay in Memphis of six weeks we went on to
Cincinnati, hopeful of meeting some, at least, of the family that,
though free, in defiance of justice, had been consigned to cruel and
hopeless bondage--bondage in violation of civil as well as moral law. We
felt it was almost impossible that we should see any one that we ever
knew; but the man had spoken so earnestly and positively regarding my
mother-in-law that we were not without hope. On arriving at Cincinnati,
our first inquiry was about her, my wife giving her name and
description; and, fortunately, we came upon a colored man who said he
knew of a woman answering to the name and description which my wife gave
of her mother, and he directed us to the house where she was stopping.
When we reached the place to which we had been directed, my wife not
only found her mother but one of her sisters. The meeting was a joyful
one to us all. No mortal who has not experienced it can imagine the
feeling of those who meet again after long years of enforced separation
and hardship and utter ignorance of one another's condition and place of
habitation. I questioned them as to when and where they had met, and how
it happened that they were now together. My mother-in-law then began the
following narrative:
"When I was sold from the Memphis trader's yard I was bought by a man
who lived not far from Memphis. I never heard of any of the children,
and knew nothing as to what had become of them. After the capture of
Memphis by the Union army, the people to whom I belonged fled from their
home, leaving their slaves; and the other slaveholders of the
neighborhood did the same. The slaves, left to themselves, at once
departed for Memphis, and I among the number. When I had been there but
a short time a call was made for nurses to go into the hospital; and,
after thinking of it for a few minutes, I concluded to answer the call,
and was speedily installed in the work. When I had been there a short
time I found, to my great surprise and delight, my eldest daughter was
also employed there. She had come to Memphis as I had, because her
master's family had fled; and, hearing the call for nurses, had entered
the service at once. I can not tell my pleasure in meeting one of my
children, for I had never expected to see any of them again. We
continued our work in the hospital until Generals Sheridan and Grant
said the city was getting too crowded with colored people--there was not
room for them; some must be removed. So, large numbers of them were sent
to Cincinnati, and my daughter and I were among them. This is why you
see us here together."
When she had finished telling this story my wife and I were shedding
tears of joy. My sister-in-law, Mary Ellen, whom Boss bought at the same
time that he bought my wife, was with us; thus the mother and three
daughters had met again most unexpectedly, and in a way almost
miraculous. This meeting again of mother and daughters, after years of
separation and many vicissitudes, was an occasion of the profoundest
joy, although all were almost wholly destitute of the necessaries of
life. This first evening we spent together can never be forgotten. I can
see the old woman now, with bowed form and gray locks, as she gave
thanks in joyful tones yet reverent manner, for such a wonderful
blessing.
* * * * *
IN CANADA.
We did not remain long in Cincinnati, as houses were so scarce we could
not get a place to stop in. My wife's mother had but one room, and we
could not stay there. We went on to Hamilton, but stayed there only two
months. I worked at whatever I could get to do--whitewashing and odd
jobs of any kind. The women managed to get washing to do, so that we got
on very well. Our aim was when we left Memphis to get to Canada, as we
regarded that as the safest place for refugees from slavery. We did not
know what might come again for our injury. So, now, as we had found some
of my wife's people, we were more eager to go; and, as I could not get
any steady work in Hamilton, we made ready to move on. We went straight
to Detroit, and crossed over the river to Windsor, Canada, arriving
there on Christmas 1865. I succeeded in getting work as a porter at the
Iron House, a hotel situated near the landing. Here my wife also was
employed, and here we remained until spring; when, as the wages were so
small in Windsor, I went over to Detroit to seek for more profitable
employment. After some effort, I succeeded in securing a situation, as
waiter, in the Biddle House, and remained there two years, when the
manager died, and it changed hands; and, much as I disliked to make a
change in my work, I found it necessary. An opportunity soon offered of
a position as sailor on the steamer Saginaw, which ran from Green Bay to
Escanaba, in connection with the railroad.
* * * * *
A CLEW TO MY BROTHER WILLIAM.
While I was on this boat, one of the men who worked with me said to me,
one day: "Have you a brother, Hughes?" I said, "Yes, but I don't know
anything about him. We were sold from each other when boys." "Well,"
said he, "I used to sail with a man whose name was Billy Hughes, and he
looked just like you." I told him there were three boys of us; that we
were sold to different parties, and that I had never seen either of my
brothers since. One brother was named William, but went by the nickname
of Billy. "Has this man had his forefinger cut off," asked I. "Oh!"
replied he, "I don't know, Hughes, about that." "Well," said I, "this is
all I remember about Billy. I accidentally chopped off his forefinger
one day, when we were small boys in Virginia. This is the only thing by
which I could identify my brother William." Nothing more was said upon
the matter, and it dropped out of my mind. I did not realize how
important were the words of this man. It never occurred to me that he
held the clew that might bring us together again.
* * * * *
WORK IN CHICAGO.
When the sailing season had ended, the steamer tied up at Chicago for
the winter. Upon going ashore, I at once tried to get something else to
do, for I could not afford to be idle a day. One of the first men I met
in Chicago was my old friend and fellow-servant Thomas Bland. He was
glad to see me, and told me all about his escape to Canada, and how he
had met Will McGee, at Niagara Falls. He was working at the Sherman
House, having charge of the coat room. I told him that I had been
sailing during the summer, but that the boat was now laid up, and that I
was anxious for another job. He said he would try and see what he could
do for me. He went to the proprietor of the hotel, Mr. Rice; and, to my
surprise and delight, he was so fortunate as to secure me a position as
porter and general utility man. My family were still at Windsor, Canada;
and, when I had secured this place, I got leave of absence to make them
a visit, and went there at once. Two babies had been born only a day
before my arrival. I had hoped to be there on the interesting occasion,
but was too late. However, I was pleased to find two bright little girls
to aid in the family greeting, which was delightful after the months of
separation. My wife, her sister Mary and her two children, her mother
and the sister we found at Cincinnati were all still here living
together.
* * * * *
ATTENDING NIGHT SCHOOL.
After a visit of two weeks with my family, I returned to Chicago, and
began my work at the Sherman House. I was full of energy and hope, and
resolved to put forth every effort to make a man of myself, and to earn
an honest living. I saw that I needed education, and it was one of the
bitterest remembrances of my servitude that I had been cheated out of
this inalienable right--this immeasurable blessing. I, therefore,
determined to do what was in my power to gain something of that of which
I had been cruelly defrauded. Hence I entered the night-school for
freedmen, which had been established in the city, and faithfully
attended its sessions during the months it was kept open.
* * * * *
I SETTLE IN MILWAUKEE.
I worked at the Sherman House until August 1868, and, during this time,
saw many travelers and business men, and made some lasting friends among
them. Among these was Mr. Plankinton. He seemed to take a fancy to me,
and offered me a situation in the Plankinton House, soon to be opened in
Milwaukee. I readily accepted it for I was not getting a large salary,
and the position which he offered promised more. The Plankinton House
was opened in September, and I was placed in full charge of the coat
room; and, after I had been there some time, I had, in connection with
my coat room duties, charge of the bell stand. My wife had charge of the
waiter's rooms, a lodging house situated on Second street, one door from
Grand Avenue. This was a brick building that stood where the west
portion of the Plankinton now stands. The second floor was used as our
living rooms; the third and fourth floors constituted the sleeping
apartments of the hotel waiters. My wife looked after these apartments,
saw that they were clean, and had a general supervision of them.